Chapter 14
Sia
The first night back in her childhood bedroom, Sia lay awake listening to the familiar creak of the ceiling fan and the distant hush of traffic on the nearby highway.
The house had always had its own rhythm, steady and unhurried, unlike the castle that always seemed like it was on high alert. It felt like slipping into a dress she had once loved and forgotten she still owned.
She had returned here not long ago with a degree in art rolled carefully into a cardboard tube and hopes and dreams shared with her university friends.
She could still remember the way the afternoon sun had spilled across this very floor as she’d unpacked her paints, her mind brimming with ideas. She had felt light then. Untethered.
Very unroyal. And then the call had come shortly after she returned.
First it had been Aldrek giving the official version of what was expected of her.
Shock had prevented her from asking many questions, something she didn’t think possible after receiving the call of her sister’s illness years prior.
Aldrek had known that Sia would do anything for her nieces and used them as leverage in his quest to make her understand.
Then the second call came. Lucas’s voice had been confident, already certain of what her answer would be. He had spoken of stability and of expectations. The word marriage had hung in the air like some kind of business proposal.
Her mother had cried with joy. Her father had clasped her shoulder with solemn pride. Sia had said yes. She sometimes wondered if she had actually felt the ground shift beneath her feet at that moment or if she had simply imagined it.
Either way, this bedroom had seen life as she knew it cease to exist.
Now, she laid there and let the memory play through her mind. Before Lucas, she had been happy in small, unremarkable ways. Calm. She had woken without bracing herself for anyone’s moods. She had painted when she wanted. She had danced barefoot on the back deck just because a song had moved her.
She slept better than she had since her wedding. The next morning, after settling the girls with her mother, who was absolutely giddy at the sight of three little heads bent over cereal bowls, Sia slipped out the back gate. She had needed space from Lucas, now she needed peace.
The path was narrower than she remembered, or maybe it was just a bit overgrown from non-use. The place where she used to paint was only a ten-minute walk from the house.
She stood still when she reached it. Here, in this meadow surrounded by stands of pine trees, was her old pavilion that stood in the middle, all rusted and weathered, with a sunny little concrete patio off to the side where her easel had stood.
Nothing had changed. Not the bench. Not the crooked pine whose branches were used by hawks for nesting each spring. Not the faint outline of old paint stains on a flat stone she used to use as a table.
Her chest tightened.
She could see her younger self with her hair pinned up in a messy bun, a canvas propped on her easel, and music playing from her phone. Sometimes she’d set the brush down and twirl, laughing at herself while her skirt fanned out. No one watching. No one judging.
Very un-royal.
She had not painted since marrying Lucas. She hadn’t even really thought about it. The realization landed heavily. She hadn’t meant to stop. At first, there had simply been no time. Then no space that was actually hers. And then no point when her life was no longer her own.
Sia ran her fingers along the bench and felt a sudden, almost reckless urge to dig her old canvases out of her parents’ garage. The thought felt forbidden, like sneaking sweets before dinner.
Why not? There’s no law that says I can’t paint.
Memories of her past works flooded her mind. She had been able to paint with her eyes closed, figuratively, not actually. She knew what colors went where and how to make a scene just a tad warmer and more real than it was.
A thin ribbon of music floated through the air and cut into her thoughts. She froze and looked around. There was no way…
And yet there was. The sound was unmistakable. A soft, lilting sound that rose and fell like a conversation between wind and soul. A flute.
Her heart stuttered as she turned toward the source.
Orion stood a little ways off, near the treeline.
He looked older, of course. His hair was longer and tied loosely at the nape of his neck, but he held the flute the same way with his eyes half-closed and his body swaying slightly with the melody.
He hadn’t seen her yet and played with his entire heart.
He wandered closer, lost in the music, and jumped when his eyes cracked open and he saw her standing there. He lowered the instrument and blinked a few times to make sure she was real.
“Sia?” His voice carried surprise and something warmer.
She felt heat rush to her face. “You’re still here.”
A crooked smile tugged at his mouth. “Where else would I go?” He pulled her into a deep hug. “Welcome back, my friend.”
They spoke awkwardly at first. He told her he’d stayed in the area and taught music at the elementary school and played at small local events.
“And you still come back here?” Sia waved her hand around.
“This place is special. It always has been.”
“Magic in the meadow,” she laughed as she remembered the name she had dubbed their place.
“You were the magic, Sia. I just came to the meadow.”
They both sat for a moment in silence. Finally, he nudged her with his knee. “So tell me what the famous Sia has been up to. Any art gallery shows yet?”
She told him, carefully, that she was married and had children. And that she had stopped painting.
He nodded, though something flickered in his gaze. “I heard about Dian, but I missed you at the funeral, and I know you married the king.” He poked gently at her shoulder. “That makes you my queen.”
She laughed even as her face heated up again. “And don’t you forget it.”
“I had such a crush on you,” he admitted, almost sheepishly. “Back then. I loved playing for you.”
The words hung between them, not heavy but honest.
“I never knew that.” Sia only felt a gentle ache for the girl she had been. When she was younger, such a confession might have sent her heart racing, but she knew that she had never seen Orion in that light.
“You were always kind,” she said. “I’m glad you’re still playing.”
Orion caught her hint to let it go. He hopped up and spun around. “So, tell me why you quit your dreams.”
She didn’t really have an answer that said anything other than duty. Luckily, he didn’t push.
When she returned to her parents, they had the girls out in the barn teaching them about the animals. She took the opportunity to visit the garage. A small workroom was off to the side, built for her by her father so that her art supplies didn’t clutter up the house.
Sure enough, they were all still where she had left them.
She picked up a brush and twirled it around, her fingers remembering the feel and texture of the dried paint on the handle.
The carry case she had used to transport her materials to the meadow sat right in its spot, and the desire to paint reared up stronger than she had anticipated.
After that, she returned to the clearing almost daily. It gave the girls quality time with their grandparents, and it gave her peace that she hoped carried over when they returned to the castle.
Sometimes Orion would be there. Sometimes not. When he was, he played and she listened. They spoke of ordinary things like stories of his students or local gossip.
She did not encourage him or give him any expectations. She didn’t step closer to him than necessary and always maintained personal space. But she lingered, mostly for the friendship that she had so sorely missed since Dian’s death.
At home, her parents watched her carefully. They adored the girls. Her mother braided their hair each morning and her father built them all sorts of furniture and houses for their dolls. The house rang with laughter.
Her parents caught her out in the yard one evening as the girls slept and the stars sparkled overhead. The stars overhead glittered like diamonds, but she knew that they weren’t coming out to discuss the beauty of the night.
“It’s good to have you here,” her father said gently. “But be careful, Sia. You can’t drift backwards into old habits.”
Her mother nodded. “You must remember that this is your old life. It’s no longer your home. Spending all your time with Orion is not proper.”
“He’s only a friend, for one. Nothing more. And for two, most of the time he’s not even there when I go paint.”
“We understand, sweetheart, but it could look inappropriate. You’re royalty now.”
Sia stared at her hands that were folded tightly in her lap. She held her tongue that they were more excited about the royal part than she was.
“No one sees me in the woods, Mama. And you know as well as I do that I’m only a placeholder,” she said quietly. “Not a real wife.”
Her mother’s eyes softened, but she said nothing. Even her father took a sudden interest in the sky.
The days passed too quickly. Each sunrise felt like a countdown. Lucas would expect her back soon. The thought coiled in her stomach like a tightening rope.
She didn’t want to go. She had found peace again, and, despite her secret feelings for Lucas, she didn’t want to lose it.
Trouble struck one day after an afternoon of sitting through another gentle melody from Orion’s flute. Clouds had built up and she hurried along the path home as a storm approached.
A deer startled her as it crashed through the brush, and Sia watched it as she rushed so she didn’t see the tree root that had risen slightly but was hidden by a blanket of old leaves. Her foot caught it and the world tilted and she crashed headlong into the thick bushes.
She fell hard through the foliage to the ground as her art case went flying. Pain shot up her leg, sharp and immediate. Her hands and arms scraped against rough earth and broken twigs.
For a moment, she could only lie there. The breath had been knocked from her lungs and she was afraid to move. When she finally calmed herself enough to try and stand, her ankle screamed in protest and she fell back to the ground.
Blood dotted her forearms in thin, stinging lines. Some cuts from the sharp branches were deeper than others. Dirt clung to her dress. Her hair had come loose completely.
She sat back against the trunk of a tree and began to laugh. Here she was, Queen of Crystafalls, and she had tripped over her own two feet. She could only imagine how royal she looked at the moment.
She laughed until she cried when it started to rain. Her father would come find her sooner or later, and in the meantime, Mother Nature was going to have a little fun with her.
Then she tried to stand again and cried for real. It hurt and the injury was going to inconvenience everyone. It also probably meant a delay of her return to the castle. It didn’t have to, really, but it was a good excuse.
She pressed a hand to her swelling ankle and felt something dangerously close to relief bloom in her chest. Now she could stay longer and avoid the confusion that was Lucas, at least for a few days.
The thought glowed inside her like a small, guilty sin.